


Salvagings

by Quixotism



Category: X-Men (Movies)
Genre: Aftermath, Ensemble Cast, F/M, Gen, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-06-10 10:31:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6953086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quixotism/pseuds/Quixotism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the defeat of Apocalypse, they go home and fix their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On The Way Home

Through some prodigal work done by Kurt and a lot of badge-waving by Moira (who kept spares on her for some reason, but no one questioned the terrifying competence of Agent MacTaggert at this point), they managed to secure aid. They huddled all together on a tiny helicopter, each finding a little niche of their own as they surveyed each other tiredly. A new addition to the group had been Ororo, full of black thunder in her eyes and wariness, as if she was waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under her. She had barely said a word until the helicopter took off. 

Then, in a sudden burst of energy, she got up and promptly sat next to Raven, vibrating nervous energy.

Everyone looked away. Raven looked like she was ready to blend into the metal. 

Ororo turned her bright eyes at Raven, as if preparing for a thunderstorm and stuck her hand out, "I'm Ororo." 

Raven shook it unsteadily, but unwilling to budge an inch, "Mystique." 

"You're my hero," Ororo continued fearlessly while Raven was going _oh god, I had to do this all over again with another teenager, this is blatantly unfair, STOP SMILING HANK._. 

( Hank's face fell a little as he shuffled to look away under the light of Raven's eyes ) 

"I'm not --," Raven began but Ororo trudged on, regardless, "So teach me how to be like you." 

Raven stared. Everyone else stared too until they ducked their heads. 

( Charles was half unconscious and _Raven had never been so glad_ )

Ororo's gaze doesn't waver, not even for a moment, but there's a wetness there that wasn't present before. Raven was suddenly reminded of another gangly girl, looking back, touching the markings on her face. Ororo had been marked too, lured by promises that sounded so sweet for a poor, powerful girl. Raven remembered those promises. 

"No," And Ororo pulled her hand back so quickly that she winced at the motion. Raven watched her coolly, thinking, _Charles you bastard, you always knew, didn't you?_

Instead she said out loud, "You won't be like me. You'll be _better._ " 

The answering expression was too soft and faint to be called a smile, but Raven replied in turn.

* * *

"I destroyed Cairo," Erik said numbly. 

"Mmm-hmmm"

"Probably most of the world."

"Mmm-hmmm"

"Do you think Sydney is still standing?" Erik thought outloud, absently.

"Mmm-hmmm"

"Maybe I should --"

"Erik," Charles mumbled, very very tired and nursing the worst headache since his college days (twice, no less. In the same week.) casually dropped his head on Erik's shoulder because staying upright was a _chore_ , "Shut up."

To that reply, Erik carefully snaked an arm around Charles' shoulders (to keep him from slipping and hitting his head, of course, why else?) and blithely hoped Paris was still standing. He had rather liked Paris.

* * *

Scott had carefully draped his jacket under Kurt's head as the blue mutant slumbered. He was completely worn out, Scott realized, slowly tucking in the corners and making sure that it was soft enough. Kurt didn't have a destructive power like Scott, but he had to look like he stepped out of a Star Wars set. Still, he seemed to be upbeat and cheerful enough. Scott grinned. He could learn to like the guy. Like being a mutant too. 

"It sounds like you're coming to terms with it," Jean said quietly, brushing some of her hair back. Her fingers gripped her pants tightly, Scott noticed so he carefully sat down next to her. 

"Yeah, well," Scott shrugged, touching his glasses, "I'm glad I helped."

_With saving someone. With doing some good, like Alex believed. With you._

Jean smiled, like the fragile brush of a butterfly's wings, "You did great out there. If it weren't for you, we would have never saved Dr. McCoy and the others."

Scott flushed, "Well, _you_ saved us out there."

She turned away, looking at the Professor, "It didn't feel like it."

"You did," Scott insisted, "And you know what?" 

Jean turned to look at him owlishly. 

"It was the _bomb_ ,"

Jean shoved him, but she was grinning, full and real and not some wisp in the firelight. 

Yeah, Scott could get used to this.


	2. What A World

Erik continued to hover between disinterest and the urge to flee. 

It couldn't be helped, he realized, as they were carted along another truck to head to another plane while Charles used his telepathy to make sure no one would stab them in the back. He had been a Horseman and Magneto. Some well-rationed fear was to be expected. The world nearly fell apart. He still couldn't find it in him to care. In fact, Erik doubted he would ever feel a spark of warmth in his chest again and probably would welcome a few murder attempts. It would give him something to do, at least. As they were shunted to the airplane that would take them home, Charles shot him a distinct look that said _if you even think of vanishing, I will cry and make you regret everything_. Normally, this isn't much of a threat (Erik has made Charles cry a lot and Charles cries easily for things like babies learning how to walk, Disney movies and heart-felt speeches) but Erik found himself very against the idea of making Charles cry right now, when there were still specks of dirt and blood on his face and he could see the invisible grooves of unbidden tears on his face. 

When En-Sabah-Nur had asked for Charles, Erik had simply given him up. Had given up everything. What's one more loss to a world full of it? 

He didn't have the answer. Erik _knew_ that he had to choose them, choose him. 

But the answer slipped away in the chaos. 

Peter groused, propping his leg up. They had managed to put a decent splint for him with Charles promising him a good doctor (and providing Peter's mother with a suitable excuse that wasn't along the lines of "Your son accidentally got kidnapped when he saved my school and helped us take down the most powerful mutant in the world, I swear I'm actually a responsible adult figure.") but Peter didn't seem too pleased, his cheeks puffed out. It was oddly endearing, if not utterly childish and bizarre for a boy _who punched En-Sabah-Nur in the face._

"This bites," Peter complained. Erik nodded mutely. Peter glanced at him uncertainly. Erik looked back.

"What," Erik said finally, "Is there something on my face?"

"No," Peter replied bluntly, "You just have a scowly face."

 _Scowly face?_ Erik repeated mentally, amazed and incredulous.

"Now you're making the thinky face," Peter nodded sagely, "Good stuff."

He snapped, "Is there a reason you're cataloging my faces right now?"

Peter leans back. He looked like someone who got what he wanted, "Yeah. It helps us know you're still in there." 

Erik closed his mouth abruptly, turning away. It wasn't the answer he was looking for . . . but it was still one.

 _There's more to you than pain and anger,_ Charles' voice whispered to him from another lifetime. Maybe there was. Maybe that's enough, just to have more.

* * *

Charles was afraid.

He wasn't quite ready to fall asleep, not when his mind had been overtaken by that hulking brute, intent on wiping away Charles' very existence. A power that Charles possesses as well, that could be used at will. Sharing any in common with En-Sabah-Nur was horrifying and Charles didn't want to close his eyes to picture him bending over his broken body, powerful whispers that spoke of stealing him away, of killing his family, of leaving nothing more than an echo. He shivered.

And blinked when a cup of tea was thrust into his hands. Charles looked up to see Jean, her face taut and stretched. With a soft smile, Charles gently pried the cup away from her hands and tugged her closer, letting her take residence in the seat next to him. 

"I was so scared," she said bravely, as if the fear had magically passed onto another land, another person in another time. 

"I know you were," Charles replied softly. No lies with Jean had been his policy. No lies, no pretense, no acting as if the world was a good place to them. They were telepaths. They were powerful.

( They were lonely. )

"I was scared," Jean repeated, "Because I thought he was going to take you away." And she was crying, quiet large tears sneaking past her defenses. Charles couldn't stop the wash of shame and pride. His students, his amazing, unique, wonderful students who had raced to his rescue, fought for his life and risked everything for him.

He had no business being afraid. 

Carefully (so he didn't drop the tea she had so kindly fetched him because she _knew_ , this bright firelit girl _knew_ ), Charles looped his arm around her shoulders and kissed her forehead, like he used to when her nightmares got too intense and her hands wouldn't stop shaking, when the sweat felt like a burn against her skin, and said, "I'm not leaving you."

She relaxed, letting the tears run their course. Satisfied, Charles leaned back against his seat.

And slept.

* * *

Kurt couldn't help it. 

Even though he didn't spend much time with Mystique, he was still fascinated by her. With the way she moved, how she transformed, how her voice would change from time to time as she pretended to be a guard, a pilot, a politician. Right now, she was simply _blue_ like him and it was nothing like his dark, furry shade but vivid, like a butterfly's wings. 

"You're staring again," Raven said, clipped and Kurt shrank back.

"I'm sorry," he said, polite, "I never thought I'd get to meet you."

Her gaze was unreadable, "You wanted to meet me?"

Kurt was baffled, "Of course! You look just like me! Why wouldn't I want to meet you?"

Her lips twitched, despite herself, "I guess us blue people should stick together."

He nodded, buoyed by the appearance of her mirth, like fireworks, "You never told me why you saved me. And -- thank you," Kurt mentioned, looking down.

Raven looked away. She looked . . . haunted. 

"You're right," she said finally, "I didn't." 

She didn't say anything else, and Kurt didn't ask, but it felt like they had a lifeline to each other, grasped in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I refuse to do Kurt's accent on principle. Also other characters will feature! Soon!


	3. When Simply Being Was Easy

Jubilee was a tough girl.

Not _tough_ the way Sunfire was, taking blows with a hearty laugh and a fiery smile. But tough in a different way. Jubilee was one of the oldest students in the school. She remembered when her parents brought her over, after she had accidentally wrecked their VCR. She had been scared (just a little) when they drove up to the school, laughing and joking. _It'll be a fun place_ , her father reassured and she scrunched up her face at him in annoyance. They didn't understand, not really, and it felt like they were giving her away to someone who can "control" her and make sure she doesn't get in any trouble. Sullenly, she remained quiet, chewing her bubblegum for the whole trip until they stopped by the entrance. There, sitting on a wheelchair was a smiling diminutive man, looking like he was about to receive good news. Her heart fell. 

Professor Xavier shook all their hands as he engaged them in the details of letting Jubilee stay here while she shoved her hands into her pockets. 

_Jubilee._

She jerked. The bubble popped. _Who said that?_

A warm chuckle, like sunshine. _Hello_ , it said, _My name is Charles Xavier._

Oh. Well, that was less fun. She scowled, _I want to go home_. 

_I know_ , and it seemed like there was a trace of grey in that shine. Wasn't he already home? Jubilee wondered, _but until you learn to control your powers, maybe you could give this place a chance?_

Jubilee considered this. It _would_ be awesome to stay in a mansion. And she did want to control her powers, _I don't have to stay if I don't want to?_

 _You can leave when you want to,_ the Professor promised.

So she stayed. She stayed even though some of the lessons bored her to tears (even though Dr. Hank was great at sciences). She stayed even when her friends had to go, when the parents whispered and pointed at them. She stayed when they drove off and the Professor's hand rested against her shoulder, a steady weight against the world. One day, near tears, she had asked them why they left, why they couldn't stay, why they didn't understand and the Professor looked so tired and empty that Jubilee almost took back her words. But he smiled in that slow, unassuming way and replied, "They're not gone. Not yet. As long as we have a door open, they can come back any time."

Jubilee wasn't sure she believed it. But she nodded and curled up against his chair as he read one of his books out loud, soft against the evening light. 

Then the Mansion was destroyed. Dr. Hank was gone and while a handful of teachers were still there, they too weren't sure how to proceed. They managed to set up tents in the yard (Jubilee called her parents, asked for their help and had been promptly touched when they arrived with blankets and pillows and never once demanded for her to go home, where she _should_ be). She arranged for campfire games and made sure everything was still standing. Their home was still _here_ , Jubilee thought savagely. It'll take more than this to hollow it out. 

In the morning, the Professor returned. He looked _awful_ , but he was still smiling away, patting and reassuring the students with his casual flair of _don't cry love, that's it, everything's fine, yes I know my hair is gone, I fancied a change_. Jubilee hung in the back because she was one of the oldest and she didn't need to hear that everything was okay. She wanted -- 

And the Professor turned his gaze on her, finally, as he dismissed the last few to Hank and Mystique. Quietly, Jubilee came closer, her throat choked. 

"Jubilee, I --," and she could hear the apology in his voice so she blurted out, "Welcome home."

He looked so startled. She almost started laughing, but it would have sounded hysterical. But the shock slowly drains away to leave understanding because the Professor gets it, he always does as he wrapped his arms around her and let Jubilee curl up close to his chest like she used to. 

"Thank you," his voice warm like sunlight once more, "For taking care of my home."

( That was when she did start crying. )

* * *

There were many repairs to be done. Charles had acted quickly, with Hank in the background to follow through because Charles was never one for the details and often missed the obvious when he waved his money around. Hank doublechecked every phone call, made sure Charles didn't do anything ridiculous and put in reasonable requests (and the right ones. Charles is good at running a school, but Hank was better at making sure it didn't fall apart). They poured over the details as they made sure each student had what they needed. Raven also got to work, making sure the students had what they needed. Erik gave them a curt nod as he started working on the frame. It seemed there was no breathing room at all, for any of them.

So it came to a surprise when Charles roused him in the night and led him out near the pond It survived the blast, though there were still signs of Scott's handiwork. Hank's lips twitched. It hadn't seemed so long ago since -- 

Ah. 

"I'm surprised it took you so long," Charles said blithely. His shoulders were hunched and Hank hated everything, the school, the destruction, En-Sabah-Nur and even Erik, for letting this come to pass. Hadn't they lost enough?

Hank hated that he forgot, even briefly. He rubbed his eyes from under his glasses. Charles lit a candle and placed it on a small paper boat. They didn't have the resources to have a proper funeral, not yet. Alex would get one, of course. One deserving of the man who supported them, stood by them and ran after the Professor without a second thought. 

This was for them. The last of the X-Men. Hank rested his hand on Charles' shoulder, taking the boat and setting it on the water. 

"He would hate this kind of thing," he remarked casually.

"Yes," Charles said in good humour, "We were all rather done with boats and submarines."

"No takebacks, Charles," Hank said. _No feeling guilty, no wishing otherwise for someone who would have done anything for you._

Charles watched as the candle slowly burned away on the tiny pond.

"No takebacks," he murmured as the light flickered away.


	4. Does It Feel The Same

"They're thinking about restarting the X-Men," Scott said, squatting down next to Jean. 

The skies had been nothing but sunny since the defeat of En-Sabah-Nur. Not that Scott can tell very well. He's slowly losing his perception of colour and it rankled a little, deep down. Jean, Jubilee, Kurt and Ororo had formed a circle next to Jean's tree (not to be confused with Scott's tree, also known as the One He Destroyed Along With Professor Xavier's Childhood Dreams), picking away at their lunches. The mansion's reconstruction wasn't _slow_ , but it was tedious and the Professor had made it a point that they all got breaks. Scott wasn't sure why the Professor thought they needed them. He would have assumed that having the school up and running would take priority, but the world itself was reeling. He took a bite out of his sandwich. They wouldn't be reeling for long, he knew that pragmatically. Alex hadn't shielded him from his experiences in the Vietnam War. He felt Scott deserved to know, deserved to be prepared. Scott believed him. 

Jean blinked at the non-sequitur as Jubilee slurped on her drink, "So?"

" _So_ ," Scott stressed the word out, "It should be us."

Ororo was curious, "What is this X-Men?" 

"It should be X-People," Jubilee muttered mutinously, but Scott ignored her and addressed Ororo's query by briefly repeating what Mystique had told them on the plane. Ororo's expression cleared and she nodded approvingly.

"I thought we would have something like that with . . . " She trailed off, glancing at her food. There were a hint of shame in her body language and Scott felt bad for bringing it up. 

"You can still be one," he reassured, "I'm just saying we should all be in line. We have the field experience. We broke into a top secret lab!"

Kurt cleared his throat.

"-- Kurt broke us in," Scott amended with a wry twist of his lips, "Jean shielded us from being noticed."

Jean was watching all of this quietly. What was she seeing, he wondered. What do telepaths see and glean from their minds? It's not like he minded, really. And besides, he thought with a faint burst of protective fury, Jean and Scott were the freaks of the school. Destructive. Dangerous. If he didn't have her back, who would? Scott glanced at Jean briefly to catch the tail end of her smile and he ducked his head, embarrassed. 

Jubilee waved her drink around, "How did you guys figure how to do all of that?"

"What do you mean?" Kurt's tail twitched.

"I mean, you guys must have been freaking out in that helicopter and there was no way to get in touch with Dr. McCoy or the Professor," Jubilee said blithely, "So how did you keep cool under, y'know, all that pressure?"

Jean blinked, "I just listened to Scott. He was the one who said to keep everyone's eyes off us."

Kurt nodded, "Scott told me to make sure we avoided the corners and the cameras so they wouldn't see us."

"Scott also told us to get the power supply," Jean continued helpfully.

They all turned to stare at him and Scott fought off a furious blush. "What?" he demanded, a little high-pitched, "I just -- It seemed like the right thing to do."

"Well, that settles it," Jubilee said with a tone of finality, "If there's a world-ending crisis, I'm just gonna stay with Scott." 

The others nodded as they went back to their respective lunches while Scott gaped at them.

 _Huh_ , Scott thought, _well that just happened_

Jean's laughter curled around his mind like a blanket.

* * *

Charles bought a chess set.

The last one had burned down with the mansion. Their possessions. Their rooms. Their history. All gone in an instant. He hadn't believed it even when Hank had supplied him with the memories. He was grateful for all the students escaping with their lives (and he'd never stop being grateful that they escaped that blight, being grateful for Peter's existence and more) but his heart mourned all the same. He had kept Raven's room. Erik's room. In the basement, Charles had trained Alex. They had all lived here once, ghosts drifting in and out of Charles' memories to keep him company. But Charles had little time for himself now, little time to grieve or to consider the implications of grieving. The world had changed irrevocably and the school had to change with it. With a heavy heart, he drafted up plans for the Danger Room, a training facility and indulged in thoughts of vigilantism. 

He couldn't protect this world on his own. He couldn't even save it from himself. 

Still, buying the chess set had been a whim. Charles caught sight of it in the window as he assisted Hank with the shopping and immediately took to it. The pieces were crudely made, with sharp plastic corners and dented lines. The design wasn't remotely close to the one he used to own and frankly, he's sure that artisan in him rebelled against such a purchase. But the fact that it was nothing like the one he used to have was what sealed his decision. He set it up on the table and wheeled back approvingly. For a minute, he could pretend he was back in his office, sunlight pouring through the windows and casting shadows on knights and pawns. 

Charles was excellent at pretense. 

"When did we get that?" 

He jerked before calming down. He had been so caught up that he had hardly noticed Erik in the room. His telepathy must be more damaged than he had originally assumed, Charles thought methodically. Another part of himself that needed fixing. The list never ends. 

"I bought it," Charles replied smoothly. Erik arched an eyebrow at him and Charles broke away, "It felt . . . necessary."

"Did it," Erik said, non-committal. Charles felt a brief surge of anger that subsided immediately. Erik, he knew, was still struggling with the simple feeling of existing. Charles knew that feeling. 

Instead, he shrugged, "Do you fancy a game?" Charles was sure Erik would say no. He's said no to everything else, preferring to remain in the periphery of their lives. Erik still hadn't said why he had come back and Raven wouldn't explain either, treating them both to her yellow flinty gaze that said they were idiots and it was not her problem.

( Which was blatantly unfair. Charles didn't even _do_ anything this time around )

Erik doesn't reply. Charles felt the tide of his hope rise and fall with his heart. _Will he, won't he, would he, wouldn't he, stay, go, does it matter in the grand scheme of things when years trickle down into brief snatches of a golden past?_. 

Then Erik nodded, taking his place on the side of the board. Black, obviously. 

Charles huffed softly as he moved to the opposite side. _Checkmate_ , he thought to himself. It was the first time he felt reasonably pleased to be wrong.

And Charles hoped he was wrong about the rest of it. 

_Will he, won't he, would he, wouldn't he, stay, go...._


End file.
